What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(50)

I open the pantry, where I find one last packet of oatmeal in the box. I microwave it and take it, plain, back to the table. Each spoonful is thick and bland on my tongue. I eat slow to make myself consider each rotten bite. Just like each rotten birthday. I don’t know why I thought this one was gon’ be any different.

Just then, the phone rings. I look over at Granddaddy, expect him to answer it, but he don’t move. Just sips his coffee, slow.

“I’ll get it,” I half say, half ask. I ain’t ever answered Granddaddy’s phone before, but he don’t object. I pick up the beige receiver from its cradle on the wall and put it up to my ear.

“Hello?” I wonder what I should do if I don’t know the person on the other end. Sometimes Momma makes me screen her calls—which later I learned is just a fancy way of saying tell her who is on the phone before she decides if she wanna talk. I don’t like doin’ that cause I ain’t good at thinking so fast on the spot. It might be easier if she just told me the whole list of people she don’t wanna talk to before I pick up the phone, so I could know.

But I do know the voice on the other end.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, sweet Kenyatta, happy birthday to you.” Momma’s voice, when she sings my special birthday song, is light and sweet and floats in the air like a helium-filled balloon. A smile stretches the whole way cross my face.

“Thanks, Momma.” I try to seem casual, when truly that one little verse meant so much. Most days here I get through without missing Momma too much. But I’m happy she knows today ain’t one of them days.

“Birthday plans, big eleven-year-old girl?” Momma asks. I wonder if she already knows but is pretending not to know so I can say. Either way, I play along enthusiastically.

“Granddaddy’s taking me to Pizza Land and the bookstore,” I reply, then add, “And Nia, too.” Momma’s always fighting Nia to make her be nice to me, which I think makes it worse. So, I don’t mention to Momma that Nia ain’t here now. I don’t want her to start that same fight.

“That sounds like fun,” Momma says. I can hear her smile through the receiver, clinking bells being rung in a row. One of my favorites, of all her smiles.

“Yeah.” My voice drops cause I hope it don’t make her too sad that this is the first time she’s missed either of our birthdays.

“Well, you have fun.” Momma’s voice trails and I think it’s already too late to keep her from being sad. “Eat an extra slice of pizza for me.” The smile is back, but the one that hangs on her face limp like a too-big dress. I twist the phone cord between my fingers and listen to Momma’s breathing on the other end.

“I will, Momma.” I try to think of something else to say, something good to make her happy. But all I can think of is Nia and Jesse and the little sounds I heard coming from her mouth when he lifted her dress.

“Oh, where’s Nia?” Momma asks, like she can read my thoughts.

“She’s . . . in the bathroom,” I whisper. Granddaddy pauses his place in the newspaper, but then he keeps on reading.

“Okay, well, can you please tell her I said hi?” Momma asks. I nod, then remember she can’t see me through the phone.

“Yes, ma’am,” I respond.

“Ma’am?” Momma laughs. “Looks like you’re learning some new manners in Lansing, huh?” Her laugh gets even louder. I can’t tell if it’s the word that’s so funny, or me saying it.

“Granddaddy taught me sir and ma’am. To say to grown-ups.” I wanna tell her bout the picnic and meeting cousins, too, but I can’t talk bout that without hide-and-seek.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun in Lansing.” Momma’s voice is quiet now. “And I know you will have so much fun tonight.”

“Thanks, Momma.” I wish I could hug her or see her smile. I think bout the last smile I ever got from Daddy, on the morning before he died. I was outside playing, and he came onto the porch. Looked like he was bout to go somewhere, but he seemed confused like he had lost something. Then he saw me. His face stretched into a giant smile that touched his eyes til they were wet with tears. If I’d known that would be the last smile, I woulda smiled a bigger and better one back. I don’t want the last smile I got from Momma to be the last. I ain’t sure how much more I can lose.

“KB?” Momma says. In this one call, her voice done gone from super happy to super sad, and now sounds back to happy again. I can barely keep up anymore.

“Yeah, Momma?”

“I just want to say,” Momma starts, then pauses like she’s changed her mind. “Happy birthday,” she finishes with a sigh.

“Bye, Momma.” Without waiting for her to say it back, I unwrap the cord from my fingers and tuck the phone back into its cradle; humming to the rhythm of my sad birthday song.



* * *





We get to Pizza Land right before dinnertime. My stomach rumbled the whole way. Just like Granddaddy said, Nia made it in time to come with us. But she’s got her ugly friend Brittany with her, too. I don’t want Brittany at my birthday, but here she is anyway, wearing too much lip gloss and a pair of jeans so tight they look like dark blue paint.

“What kind of pizza you want to order?” Granddaddy is finally smiling so big for once that I can’t help but to smile back, just a little.